


本命チョコ (honmei choco)

by fieryrondo



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: ...turns out that i can't XD, Chocolate, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Valentine's Day Fluff, fic not sponsored by Ghana, i basically wrote this because i wanted to see if i could write rom com, many ghana chocolates were sacrificed in the making of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fieryrondo/pseuds/fieryrondo
Summary: "That's Javi's locker." Yuzuru feels the weight of the younger skater’s unasked question.“It’s promotion,” Yuzuru blurts out the half-inspired excuse. “For Ghana,” he elaborates with stronger naturalness.A lengthy pause.“Sure.” Jun-hwan shrugs.





	本命チョコ (honmei choco)

**Author's Note:**

> Eons ago, it occurred to me to try my hand at something purely romantic, without any serious thought or intention attached to it. Then Olympics happened and the draft was buried in a folder I had forgotten about until very recently. El cisne is still my biggest project but since it's a bit intimidating to dive back into that right now, I thought I'd at least toss in my contribution to the yuzuvier tag.
> 
> Unbeta'ed...so like Yuzuru's chocolate-making skills, it's of dubious quality.
> 
> Usual RPF disclaimer applies. This work is complete and utter fiction. Any resemblance to real life people is completely coincidental.

Yuzuru closes his eyes. Calls upon the powers of his absolute focus. The vision of victory emblazoned gold in his mind's eye.

 

He opens them again and frowns.

 

The benefits of image training, much to Yuzuru’s displeasure, did not seem to extend to the realm of the kitchen.

 

Yuzuru pokes at the remnants with a spatula. A blackened crumb flakes off like a dead leaf. The rest of its brethren congealed to the sides of the bowl like a malevolent mold. Yuzuru glares at the pulsating(?) mass before picking up the bowl and running the sink. Perhaps with time (and heavy duty drainage cleaner) the water might soften up what had once been chocolate to the point where it could be scraped off with one of his mother’s kitchen knives. Busying himself with the sponge--no luck--the bowl was gone for good--Yuzuru pretends he doesn’t hear his mother pacing frantically outside the kitchen door, half wondering if he’s burned down the kitchen again. Yuzuru loves his mother to bits but there are some things in life that simply had to be done with one's own power.

 

Yuzuru drops the curdled contents--bowl and all--into the wastebasket. Presses a finger to his cheek, head tilted in thought. His eyes wander to the one spot on the counter that has yet to be destroyed. The kit’s garish label of impossibly perfect chocolates draws Yuzuru’s eye, mocking him with its cheerful “easy to make” guarantee. Ha! A false promise. If anything, Yuzuru has attained a new profound respect for those skilled in the art of cooking. The completed dish, pristine in its presentation, exquisite in taste, belied the hours of blood, sweat, and tears to make it. In this way, cooking was not dissimilar to skating.

 

Slightly cheered by this culinary insight, Yuzuru lets out a slow breath. Regains his focus. He casts his gaze down on the unopened package of cacao. The last one.

 

Yuzuru wipes his hands on his dusted apron and rolls up his sleeves. Six minute warm up, take two.

 

He picks up his phone.

 

*

 

[02 / 13 07:01pm] Yuzu: how do u melt chocolate without setting the pan on fire?

 

_Incoming call from Keiji-kun._

 

*

 

The next day, Yuzuru gets to the Cricket Club a little earlier than usual, with full intention to take advantage of the lull of activity in between skating sessions to slip into the locker room unnoticed. To Yuzuru’s relief, the room’s unoccupied. He relaxes a little and lets down his guard as he strolls past the lockers before locating Javi’s in the corner. Yuzuru fiddles with the combination--knowing Javi, he hasn’t changed it in years--before the lock thumps loose and the door opens with a satisfying click. Yuzuru wrinkles his nose at the stash of sweaty socks and shoves it to the back. It's not like Javi would miss them.

 

Another furtive scan of his surroundings. Still quiet. All clear. Yuzuru pulls the wrapped box from his bag and steps back to admire his work.

 

A locker from a row down slams shut. Yuzuru jumps a mile high but faces his witness boldly. He doesn’t bother concealing his gifting attempt. Not when Jun-hwan’s calm eyes are homed in on the box in his hands like a bird of prey. 

 

"That's Javi's locker." Yuzuru feels the weight of the younger skater’s unasked question. 

 

“It’s promotion,” Yuzuru blurts out the half-inspired excuse. “For Ghana,” he elaborates with stronger naturalness.

 

A lengthy pause.

 

“Sure.” Jun-hwan shrugs, before grabbing his phone and heading out. After the footsteps had faded, Yuzuru lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. Hardly willing to risk another chance, Yuzuru tucks the box, meticulously bound with red ribbon, between a Real Madrid towel and a bottle of deodorant before closing the door behind him.

 

Whatever jitters left behind after the locker room incident melt away once Yuzuru sees the ice. Blissfully familiar territory, free of any complicated emotions. Yuzuru chirpily greets Ghislain and Gabby before he hits the ice, losing himself in the easy rhythm of his blades. He hums. Today was going to be a great day of practice.

 

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Tracy comments with a laugh.

 

Yuzuru grins. Tracy ruffles his hair.

 

With the stroking exercises out of the way, Yuzuru warms up with his usual set of triple axels. Yuzuru feels good and happily maps out the jumps he’ll work in addition to his run through later that afternoon. Perhaps Brian would even let him try the quad lutz again.

 

Then Javi walks in, coffee in hand and just in time to get an earful from Brian.

 

For the briefest of moments, Yuzuru hesitates, before sneaking a sideways glance across the ice. Javi’s still talking to Brian, all the while slipping into his warm up with the easygoing languor of one who has all of the time in the world. Javi throws his head back in laughter, eyes sparkling with mirth, at something Brian says. Yuzuru feels something coil in his chest like a barely compressed spring, tight and inevitable. He wants to hear the conversation they’re having, what Javi thinks is so funny. Javi was good at funny. Funny breathed and found its way into Javi’s programs one way or another, its presence as sure as the earth beneath his feet.

 

Their eyes meet. Javi smiles. The world spins and Yuzuru’s blade catches on a hole in the ice. He stumbles.

 

Yuzuru finds himself apologizing profusely in Japanese when he nearly plows into young Stephen practicing his quad lutz. His ears burn hot and he self-consciously brushes his hair over them. Ghislain tosses Yuzuru a look of Concern from the other side of the rink. Yuzuru flushes before mouthing a sheepish "sorry".

 

Yuzuru dares a peek over his shoulder only to see Brian standing by himself. Where had Javi gone--? 

 

Oh.  _There._ Yuzuru's train of thought slows to a glacial stop when he sees Javi trot out of the locker room with a towel and skates in hand. He bumps into a shy girl, one of the junior skaters, who offers him a rose. Javi accepts the gift graciously, the corners of his lips upturned into a smile.

 

"Don't they look cute together?" Gabby coos.

 

"Javi too old," Yuzuru snaps and turns away. Gabby starts at the unexpected sharpness.

 

"You know, I was joking..."

 

 

Yuzuru badgers Paige for impromptu spin practice. Yuzuru doesn’t really need it, but Paige always had good tips for improving his form. Perhaps, Yuzuru thinks, as he dives into a sit spin, if he spins fast enough, the earth would stop tilting.

 

*

 

Yuzuru’s throat goes dry when he finds Javi waiting by his locker after practice.

 

“You take a long time to cool down,” Javi tells him, his lips quirked with amusement. “I thought I would have to go back and pry you off the ice.”

 

Yuzuru stares, his brain running a mile a minute as words continue to spill out of Javi’s mouth, loud and clear to hear but somehow Yuzuru doesn’t really take them in, as the words are superseded by a single burning question.

 

He doesn't ask it.

 

"What happen to your flower?"

 

"The flower?" Javi repeats before he catches on. "Oh! I gave it to your mom. She gave me one of your rice balls." He pats his stomach with a sunny grin. "I should forget my lunch more often."

 

Yuzuru blinks. Tries to make sense of this new development. Fails.

 

Yuzuru needs more time. So he takes it.

 

"How was your practice?" he interrupts.

 

Javi looks at him rather strangely but humors him anyway. Yuzuru only idly listens, his mind racing to collect his thoughts. His mother gave Javi a rice ball. Javi gave her a flower. So what exactly did this mean?

 

Midway through what Yuzuru assumes to be a merry tale regarding his cat’s misadventures earlier that day, Yuzuru cuts Javi off.

 

“I have to go." A tactical retreat. "Bus waiting." He brushes past Javi.

 

"Bye," Yuzuru tacks on belatedly, not wishing to be entirely rude.

 

“Wait.”

 

And Javi pulls out the box, the undone ribbon rippling in his hand. Yuzuru doesn’t even flinch, only gazes at the opened box of chocolates as if looking at it for the first time. And in a way, it is the first time Yuzuru’s seen the box unwrapped, its contents partially consumed. To his surprise, Javi had been very careful not to tear the tissue paper.

 

“There wasn’t a card or anything,” Javi tells him. There’s an odd look in his eyes, and to Yuzuru’s discomfort, it’s one he recognizes but can’t quite place. It’s a little like the look Javi gives Effie, or when he hugs Tracy, but different. Hungrier somehow. “From the taste, I knew it was from you.”

 

Yuzuru opens his mouth, only the words won’t come, the prepared denial melts away on his tongue. His ears are hot, his neck beaded with sweat, even though it was quite cool. Javi's cheeks pulled tight in newly unwrapped joy, as if he’s in on a joke privy only to him. He steps towards Yuzuru, a hand on his shoulder, the other still holding out the box, the misshapen sweets glaring up at him like a piece of damning, irrefutable truth.

 

Javi's eyes crinkle, bright and expectant. Stupid Bambi eyes.

 

“I’m..it’s for...it’s stupid.” Yuzuru wants to slap himself but settles for clenching his fist. Courage fails him but he grits the words out in bits. The side of the locker groans in his hand. “I do something stupid. Is just promotion. Just-just forget it.”

 

“That so? It’s not like you to do stupid things.” Javi looks amused, his lips twitching. Yuzuru hates this smile.

 

“Well, maybe I’m stupid.” Yuzuru stares at the floor. He wonders if he wishes hard enough, he could sink into the floor.

 

The floor remains stubbornly intact.

 

A pause. The rustle of wrapping paper.

 

"Well..." Something in Javi's voice makes Yuzuru look up. Maybe it was the forced casual tone, the voice Javi used at competitions to mask his nervousness. Javi's easy smile is belied by the bob in his throat, the tan of his collarbone flashing underneath his shirt. He’s so close Yuzuru can see the sweat drip from his brow, the curl of his dark lashes.

 

“Guess that makes two of us.”

 

Too close, too bright. And before Yuzuru can demand an explanation, his lips taste of something new, something warm and smooth and sweet, like the most perfectly tempered homemade chocolate.

 

Only better.

**Author's Note:**

> You can watch Yuzuru attempt chocolate tempering [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2iASbSX7AUw).


End file.
